


Muse

by kinsale_42



Series: Historical McReyes [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, Dream Sex, Fingerfucking, M/M, Mild Alcohol and Tobacco Use, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Jesse, Restraints, Rough Kissing, Sexsomnia, Spy drama, Undercover Work, implied sex work, mild dubcon, opera - Freeform, porn with a tiny bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinsale_42/pseuds/kinsale_42
Summary: Gabe and Jesse are working undercover to track illicit funds being passed through a Parisian opera house. They meet up on the night of a performance where the key criminal can be caught on tape discussing the evidence that would put him away. After the show, Gabe receives the proof, and he and Jesse collect their own private reward.





	Muse

Gabe slipped the coat check ticket into his pocket and stepped out into the lobby, appreciating the thick cushion of the carpet beneath his feet. The opera patrons were milling about around him, chatting with friends and visiting the bar before finding their seats. The theater was incredibly elegant, in the modern style found everywhere in the cities that had been rebuilt after the Omnic Crisis, but that wasn’t unexpected in the slightest. There was a reason this theater was the focus of the operation, and that reason was whose money flowed through the accounts.

Gabe stepped over to the ornate wall mirror nearby to adjust his tie and assure himself that his artificially-silvered hair and professorial beard were arranged to his liking. When he was satisfied, he turned and spoke to the nearest usher, a good-looking young man who had just finished giving directions to another guest.

“Excusez-moi, parlez vous anglais?” he asked.

The usher inclined his head. “Yes, monsieur, I speak English. How may I help you?” His English was very clear, yet delicately and most attractively accented.

“I wonder if you could show me to my seat?” Gabe handed his ticket to the young man, who bent his sleek dark head to read the slip of paper. He immediately became even more deferential.

“Of course, monsieur. Please, right this way.”

Gabe followed him up the curving stair to his box seat, admiring the way his modest black ponytail curled around his crisp white collar. The usher pulled back the curtain to allow Gabe to pass through to his seat, his grey eyes quietly observant as the older man stepped in front of him.

As Gabe settled in the comfortable chair, the usher leaned over, his voice soft in Gabe’s ear. “Would monsieur like a drink? A brandy perhaps, or a whiskey?”

“Yes, please. A brandy would be lovely.” The young man slipped away and Gabe pulled a set of opera glasses out of his pocket and casually scanned the theater as the seats began to fill. The box opposite his own was still empty. He snapped the glasses closed and set them down on the small table next to his chair, picking up his program instead.  _ “Samson et Dalila,”  _ he read, and sighed slightly. He hadn't been to church in decades but he still remembered his Sunday school lessons from childhood. Hopefully the singing wouldn't be too hard to take, because Gabe already didn't feel particularly comfortable with the subject matter. He'd been thinking about the parallels to his own life ever since he'd made the arrangements to be here.

The usher was quickly at his side once more, deftly placing the brandy snifter next to the opera glasses. “I hope monsieur is enjoying his stay in Paris.”

“Yes, it’s the perfect time of year to visit. And I have a few days free before my conference at the university next week, so I hope to explore a bit.” He looked up into the grey eyes. “I don’t suppose you know anyone--someone like yourself, perhaps--who might be willing to show me some of the local color? Things that aren’t in the guidebooks?” Gabe pulled out his wallet and began to thumb through the bills to cover his brandy and a tip.

The usher raised his eyebrow, one eye clearly on the contents of Gabe's wallet. “I might know someone, monsieur.” He watched as Gabe added a couple more bills to the stack. “I will let you know at the first intermission if he is available. Merci.” He accepted the cash and slipped it into his pocket before he bowed slightly and withdrew.

Gabe took a sip of his brandy, nodding as he approved of the quality, then he raised his opera glasses once more. The lights were dimmed a notch as the orchestra filed into the pit and began to warm up. He briefly swept his gaze across the orchestra before casting his eyes back up to the box opposite.

Just then, the heavy velvet curtain was pulled back and his elegant black-haired usher appeared, guiding a balding, soft-in-the-middle older man and an alluring younger woman to their seats. Gabe didn’t fail to notice how the man’s hand slipped up the back of the usher’s thigh as the woman adjusted her gown and looked with some excitement towards the stage. The young man was apparently unfazed by the contact and nodded at whatever the guest had requested before retreating through the curtain. As he had done with Gabe, he returned with a tray bearing drinks, then, as he took his leave, the orchestra fell silent and the lights dropped further. All attention was focused on the stage as the curtain opened.

The opera was more engaging than Gabe had anticipated, and he had to pull himself out of the story more than once during the first act to keep his eye on what was happening on the other side of the theater. There was little to see, until Dalila began her last aria of the act, and then the man stood and stepped out to the passageway, where Gabe lost sight of him as the curtain blocked his view. He returned just as the aria ended, about five minutes later by Gabe's reckoning. His auburn-haired companion smiled distractedly as he whispered something in her ear, never taking her eyes from the stage. Then applause rose through the audience as the act ended and the curtain fell.

Gabe rose from his seat to stretch his legs and followed the curving stair behind his box to where it intersected with a mezzanine that overlooked the main lobby. He found a place where he could lean against the railing and observe the crowd. The couple from the other box appeared below, and the woman stopped to get coffee as the man slipped into the office behind the courtesy desk.

“Bingo,” Gabe said, under his breath. Now if they were just getting a recording as they had planned, this evening would all be worthwhile. He didn't wait for his mark to reappear, instead returning to his seat.

Just as the house lights flickered to give the five minute warning, the young usher appeared at his elbow with a small cup of coffee and a dainty little pastry. Tucked between the coffee cup and the saucer was a slip of white paper.

“Merci,” Gabe said, and reached for his wallet again, but the young man stopped him.

“No, monsieur, it is included.” He smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and departed once again. Gabe took a sip of the coffee as he unfolded the slip of paper.

“12:30,” it read, followed by an eight-digit number. He tucked the note into his inside chest pocket and allowed himself to enjoy the coffee and the square of sweet and airy confection as the lights fell and the curtain opened on act two.

Nothing of any interest happened during the second act beyond what unfolded on stage, which was quite compelling in its own way. It was midway through the third act when Gabe saw the man in the other box slip away again. This time, he was gone for nearly twenty minutes, and when he returned, he seemed to be in some state of disarray. Gabe snuck a glance through his opera glasses, and noted the flushed countenance, the bow tie slightly askew. The man leaned back in his chair, looking for all the world like a cat who got the cream. Gabe considered what this could mean, and finally decided that his first guess was probably right. He would know for sure soon enough.

The performance ended at last shortly after 11 pm, and Gabe gathered his overcoat and stepped out into the chill of the October night. The streets were wet from rain, the clouds above glowing faintly with the reflected lights of the city. He caught a cab back to his hotel, where he changed out of his evening wear into a dark grey turtleneck sweater and slacks, and pulled on his leather jacket as he headed back out into the night.

At 12:30 am precisely, Gabe was punching the eight digit code he'd been given into the entry keypad of a small studio flat on a quiet street just outside the theater district. The code was accepted with a muted beep and there was a click as the lock disengaged. Gabe pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness inside, letting the door swing closed behind him.

The apartment was a single square room with windows running nearly the full width of the wall opposite the door. One of the windows was open wide to the cool damp of the night, and a figure sat on the deep marble windowsill, dark hair loose on his shoulders, smoking a cigarette and looking out over the city. He turned as Gabe entered, then swung his feet off the sill to the floor, stubbing out his cigarette as he did so.

“About time you showed up,” Jesse said.

“You said twelve-thirty.” Gabe looked at his watch. “It's twelve-thirty-two.”

Jesse reached out to pull the window closed, and in the light that rose from the city beyond, Gabe could see the smirk on his face.

“We got it,” Jesse announced as he twitched the thin curtain across the space where he'd been sitting. He tossed a small object to Gabe, something that glinted in the dim light. Gabe reached up and caught it. It was a memory stick. He grinned.

“Good work, Jess.” He removed his coat and tucked the device into the special pocket he'd sewn into it for just such things, then looked for somewhere to hang it up. There were few options for where he could put it; the room contained only a bed, a long, low dresser, a wardrobe, and a single wooden chair. He chose the chair. Then without hesitation, he gathered Jesse up in his arms and crushed their lips together. He buried his fingers in Jesse’s hair and used it to pull his head back. “I hate it when you smoke,” Gabe growled.

Jesse just smiled. “I know. I really needed one, though.”

Then Gabe remembered the third act, how their mark had been flustered, pink-cheeked. “Did you suck his cock?” He wound his fingers a little tighter in Jesse’s hair, sure that it was causing pain by now. He knew it, his hunch had been right. They’d known from the start that things worked that way in this particular establishment, and that Jesse would have to play the game, but it still twisted something inside Gabe to be faced with the facts. It hurt...and it turned him on.

But Jesse didn't flinch. “You know I did. You saw him. The rich patrons get whatever they want, and they tip well for it.”

“And your cover is still good?” Gabe asked the question but did not wait for an answer before he brought his mouth to Jesse’s exposed neck. He felt his lover’s answer as much as he heard it.

“Mmmhh...yes, nobody questions me or even seems to look at me sideways. You probably didn’t even need to….ahhhhhh...design our interaction to imply you wanted services…”

Gabe paused mid-nuzzle. “But I did want services, isn’t that obvious?”

A delirious chuckle burbled up out of Jesse. Of course he did. The hand in his hair relaxed as Gabe shifted briefly back into commander mode.

“They shouldn’t be aware that anything unusual took place tonight, but be on the lookout. I need you to stay put for a couple more weeks, think you’ll be okay?” Gabe swallowed the growing lump in his throat. It was a simple op, and no one would be the wiser until weeks after the acquisition of information had even taken place. Why was he frightened? He felt Jesse shift in his arms, and cool hands slid up to hold his face.

“I can take care of myself. Always have.”

Both of Gabe’s hands slid down to Jesse’s ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh there. “Right. Well, tonight, you’re taking care of me.” Their lips crashed into each other again, their tongues fighting for dominance as Gabe ground his body against his younger partner. His fingers found the bottom edge of Jesse’s shirt, and he tugged at it, seeking access to the warm skin below. It was too tight for him to pull up and off, and he didn’t have much left in the way of patience. “Get this thing off you,” he demanded, breaking the kiss momentarily with a wet noise before resuming with just as much passion. Even the mingled flavors of tobacco smoke and wine couldn’t outweigh his desire to devour Jesse’s mouth.

Jesse swiftly unbuttoned the shirt, jamming his hands between them, as unwilling to move apart as Gabe was. Then Gabe was pulling the fabric back, exposing his chest but leaving his hands tangled in the sleeves. As he fought to release them, he was being pushed down onto the unmade bed, Gabe’s face pressed against his exposed skin. The combination of the prickly beard with the hot tongue and lips made Jesse shiver and moan, especially as Gabe paused to suck on Jesse’s sensitive nipples, soaking them, leaving them tingling and rapidly chilled in the barely-heated room. He squirmed as Gabe pressed himself between Jesse’s thighs, trapping his still-clothed erection almost painfully between their bodies. He couldn’t free his arms, especially now that he was lying on top of them with Gabe’s weight adding to his own.

Gabe was taking advantage of the situation, using his hands and mouth as roughly as he pleased, Jesse’s squeaking and wriggling just adding fuel to the fire. At last he lifted himself up and off Jesse, leaving him a panting, flustered mess half on and half off the mattress.

“I have to admit,” Gabe said as he undid Jesse’s pants and yanked them down, “I like it when you’re restrained. You work so hard to get free, as if you would have any control anyway.” He grinned wickedly as he squeezed Jesse’s balls, forcing another ragged moan from his partner. “When you’re tied up, I know it’s me that’s making you come undone.” He flipped Jesse over on his stomach as though he weighed nothing, and pulled the shirt off his arms. Jesse didn’t move, waiting for Gabe to let him know what he wanted.

Gabe removed his belt and used it to secure Jesse’s arms behind his back, then pushed a dry finger down into Jesse’s crack. The only moisture there was sweat. Good. He wasn’t in the mood for sloppy seconds. Jesse was his tonight, and only his. He left the younger man waiting there as he undressed, carefully draping his expensive clothes over the chair.

Jesse pushed his face into the rumpled sheet as he hung awkwardly off the edge of the bed, his swollen cock pushed down between his thighs. He couldn’t believe Gabe was actually jealous. This affair that they were having...could he even call it that? A tryst every few months? It was just enough to keep Jesse rocketing between despair and utter devotion, and he had yet to find the resolve to put an end to it. But then, what more could he expect of love? He wasn’t working a regular job, and a wife and two kids wasn’t on the books for his future. Or a husband and two kids, for that matter. Maybe this was as good as it got. Gabe smacked him across the bare ass, interrupting his musings and setting his pulse racing again.

“Lube?” Gabe asked. He didn’t need any more foreplay. He’d been actively fighting his arousal all night, ever since he’d first laid eyes on Jesse in the opera house.

“Windowsill,” Jesse replied, turning his head so he could be heard. He was lifted bodily onto the bed and Gabe climbed up with him, pushing his thighs wide apart and pulling his cock down between his legs where it was accessible. Jesse felt the anticipation build within him, and then he realized that in this position he had no leverage at all, and he was completely and utterly exposed. Somehow that just made it better. 

There was a snap as Gabe opened the lube and dribbled some across his fingers and down over Jesse’s waiting entrance, smiling again as his lover shivered at the cold liquid hitting his warm and sensitive places. He pushed his middle finger in without hesitation, all the way to the base, slipping easily through the rings of muscle into the soft flesh beyond. There was so little resistance to the intrusion that he added his ring finger on the next thrust. Jesse groaned softly as Gabe pounded into him with two fingers that were easily the size of three of his own.

After a minute, Gabe paused, pouring more of the cold, slippery liquid across his hand. He tossed the bottle back onto the windowsill and pulled Jesse’s left cheek aside to give him a better view of the action. There was just enough light, once his eyes had adjusted, to see everything he wanted to see.

Gabe judged that Jesse was open enough now for another finger, and he added his index finger to the group, using it to stroke the interior walls and nudge the array of nerves that made his partner twitch deliciously. He could feel the blood vessels throbbing around his fingers, and it made his cock ache that much more, but he wasn’t done here yet. He increased his pace, working Jesse harder with each more forceful thrust.

All of Jesse’s pleasure centers were beginning to light up and his brain was quickly losing the ability to focus on anything but what Gabe’s hands were doing to him. When he realized Gabe had added a fourth finger, it seemed to be the best possible choice. He could feel his body stretch as Gabe’s knuckles slammed against his hole over and over. And then they were inside him briefly, and then again as Gabe pushed in to the root of his thumb. Sounds leaked continuously from Jesse’s mouth now, moans and grunts and unintelligible vocalizations. Gabe was fucking him with most of his hand, and hard, and he wanted it. It was setting his body on fire.

And then it stopped. Gabe was losing focus himself, caught up in the need to prove that Jesse belonged to him. He realized he’d been about to shove his fist into his younger partner, without consent, and it stunned him. He pulled his hand out and away carefully, gently stroking along the length of Jesse’s cock. It was still swollen, but no longer as hard as it had been ten minutes earlier, though the renewed attention was quickly bringing it back to life. He laid his hips down over the soft curve of Jesse’s ass and propped himself up on his elbows to avoid putting pressure on his bound arms. There were still quiet mewing sounds coming from Jesse’s lips with every heaving breath, soft and sweet as rose petals after a rain shower.

“Jess...how are you doing?” Gabe brushed the dyed-black hair off Jesse’s neck and then leaned down to nibble at the burning hot skin that was revealed.

It took a second to get a reply. “I’m...good...Wrecked, but...good…”

Gabe relaxed a bit, relieved. “Good,” he said. “Let’s change it up.” He sat back on his heels again, and somehow managed to roll Jesse over and lift him up onto his feet on the floor. He had to move quickly because he could tell Jesse’s legs were already shaky. Before Jesse knew what was happening, Gabe was stretched out on his back and Jesse was straddling his hips, their dicks brushing against each other, sending little tickles of pleasure straight through him.

“Hmmm,” Gabe said, thoughtful. “Come up here for a minute.” He indicated his face. Jesse lifted himself up on his knees and shuffled up until his cock was in range of Gabe’s lips. Then Gabe’s hands were on his ass, pulling him closer, and Gabe’s mouth was surrounding him, tongue teasing him. He struggled to keep his balance as Gabe moved his body for him, sucking his shaft down into the constricting space of Gabe’s throat. He felt the pressure building inside, the ecstasy increasing exponentially.

“Gabe…” Jesse rasped. “I’m so close...oh god…” And Gabe pulled off before the line was crossed, leaving Jesse gasping, his dick rigid and throbbing. He let Gabe’s hands guide him back down until he was sitting where he had been before.

“Want to ride?” Gabe asked as he wiped the spit off his beard.

Jesse looked at the man stretched out beneath him, the muscles cut like marble. Even the multitude of scars on his skin were beautiful. Jesse's heartbeat was loud in his ears, and his whole body was thumping with it. Finally he managed an answer. “Absolutely.”

Gabe reached above his head for the lube and poured out some more, using it to stroke himself into full hardness as Jesse got back up on his knees, hovering, readying himself. With one hand guiding his cock and one on Jesse's hip, he sheathed himself as Jesse lowered his body down to meet Gabe's. They sat there, both a bit overwhelmed at first, then Jesse lifted up and dropped again, not bothering to control how hard he landed. He kept doing it, over and over, fucking himself so hard on Gabe's cock that he was getting dizzy. His own dick bounced on Gabe's abdomen with every stroke, leaking a few drops of pre-come onto the warm, damp skin below.

Gabe let his hands rest on Jesse's hips, and did nothing but hold himself rigid to provide a solid base for his lover to launch himself from. Every impact reverberated through him, making it hard to breathe, sending stars shooting across his vision. Jesse was giving as good as he got, sacrificing himself at Gabe's altar to prove his devotion. It was what Gabe needed, in more ways than one.

At last the burn in his thighs was too fierce, and Jesse could no longer propel himself upwards, and with his arms bound behind him, there was nothing else he could do. He was panting with exertion and the overwhelming stimulation of Gabe's dick inside him, and the sweat was beading up on his face. “Gabe… I can't move any more.” He laughed, helpless. His knees slipped further apart on the smooth sheet beneath them, impaling him even more deeply, and he moaned unabashedly.

The hands that had been idly massaging his hips and thighs now gripped him firmly, lifting him a few inches so Gabe could thrust up into him from below. He adjusted the angle until Jesse was squeaking and trembling from the attention to his prostate. Gabe was getting closer now, he could feel his release creeping up on him as Jesse's slick heat enveloped him, caressed him like fine silk. He was thrusting faster, nailing Jesse's sweet spot as hard as he could from underneath, trying to push him over the edge before Gabe toppled off himself. Gabe tasted blood and realized he'd been biting his lip in his effort to hold on. Jesse's eyes were closed, his dry throat making his voice hoarse as he continued to make small intermittent grunts and groans.

Finally Gabe couldn't help himself, and as he watched Jesse losing all touch with reality, he said it out loud. “You're fucking mine, Jesse McCree. You belong to me, do you hear me?”

Jesse's gave his only possible reply, which was to cry out and then come across Gabe's chest. The world was spinning around him as he shattered into ecstatic fragments of himself and then slowly reassembled around the axis of Gabe's dick.

Gabe continued to drive himself into Jesse as he fell apart, into the compressions of his lover's orgasm, until he, too, was propelled into the delicious abandon of release, instinctively pulling Jesse's hips down to bury himself as far as he could and spill deep within.

Jesse slowly came down to lie on Gabe's chest, exhausted, radiant. His body still throbbed, both from exertion and pleasure. Gabe reached up behind him and released his arms from their restraint, massaging the blood back into them as they fell down useless at Jesse's sides. Then he held Jesse tightly, trying not to move in any way that would cause his dick to slide from its warm berth any sooner than necessary.

Gabe's fingers were in his hair again, his voice soft in Jesse’s ear as he murmured gentle nonsense.

“You're mine, baby, mine. I'll always be looking after you, because you're mine and I need you.” Gabe didn’t even quite realize he was doing it until Jesse lifted his head to kiss him and the room fell quiet again. 

 

*

 

At first it was a dream, Gabe was watching a love scene being acted out below him on stage, and he knew it was the love scene from the opera, but it was different. The performers weren't singing, and they were naked. They were actually making love in front of everyone. Gabe felt his cock throb, and when he looked down, he was also naked. And then he was the one on stage, and he felt a warm, naked body against him and he couldn't resist it, even with all the eyes of the world upon him.

Soon he was floating up to the space between being asleep and awake, and the warm, naked body was still pressed close to him, snug in his arms, and his cock was hard and aching, wedged between two deliciously firm buttocks. He automatically began to rub his shaft back and forth along the crevice there, and it felt so good, and he moved his hand down to push the head of his cock into the tight space, to rub it up and down along the heated skin of his lover. God, it felt so nice.

And it was still wet and soft and open there, just in the middle, just in the right place for him to slip inside. Then Gabe was sliding in, into this wonderful body pressed against him, and he didn't care if the audience enjoyed the performance, because he felt lovely and warm and he was thrusting instinctively because his body knew what to do.

Then he was awake. He froze, his cock hilted in Jesse’s ass as he held the younger man immobile against his chest. What had he done? What was he doing?

In a sleepy voice, Jesse asked, “Why'd you stop?” 

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for the French opera house long before I put together any of the details, so at the last minute I was poring over the Met Opera website trying to select an opera with an interesting and vaguely relevant plot, preferably French (no real reason, just because). How provident it was, then, that I picked the one opera that my favorite rock band used in one of their songs. The coincidence was so overwhelming that it led to me referring to *them* in the title of the work, as well as the fact that Jesse and Gabe see each other as a driving force behind their work, at least sometimes. And that in this piece, the feeling of belonging to each other weighs large in their minds.
> 
> Muse: "I Belong To You [+Mon Coeur S'Ouvre A Ta Voix]" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ttu6RxqbZg
> 
> Camille Saint-Saëns: "Samson et Dalila" If you're interested in more about the opera: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samson_and_Delilah_(opera)
> 
> Thanks, as ever and always, to my dedicated beta reader, who makes time to wade through this stuff and tell me it's readable, even when there's no Hanzo in the cast list. <3 Miss Paramount


End file.
